


The Lion's Cub

by Queen_of_Stormwind



Category: World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 23:43:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20367070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_of_Stormwind/pseuds/Queen_of_Stormwind
Summary: Anduin Wrynn, now a father to a baby girl, reflects on his own relationship with his late father, King Varian Wrynn.





	The Lion's Cub

The receiving room that attached to the royal family’s quarters was draped in shadow. The only illumination came from the low flames that glowed warmly in the fireplace. Only the crackle and occasional pop from the fire broke the serenity of the moment. Inkpots, quills, and parchment lay strewn across the table with books and maps stacked haphazardly off in a corner. Anduin had relocated from the study where he conducted the business of ruling with his queen and most trusted advisor, Damara, at his side. Even with never-ending affairs of state, Anduin Wrynn had been determined not to miss his child’s birth - unlike his father, King Varian. His father had often expressed the regret of not being able to witness Anduin coming into the world. 

Anduin gazed down upon his newborn daughter who slept fitfully wrapped in a blue blanket with golden stitching. Her hunger had been sated with a belly full of her mother’s milk. He could scarce believe that only a day before, the Priestess Laurana had placed her into his arms. 

His daughter had come into the world howling as if to announce her arrival to all of Azeroth. Her newborn squalls had been silenced when a soft radiance limned Anduin’s hand. He traced a finger gingerly over the baby’s cheek to soothe her into quietness. 

What had begun as an exercise to pacify his daughter’s restless kicking quickly turned into a bonding experience between Anduin and his unborn child. He had initially learned of the technique from Velen. It was an ancient custom from the days before the coming of Sargeras. Eredar fathers would ‘awaken’ with their unborn children with the aid of the arcane. This tradition had changed after the Draenei had been forced to flee Argus. To honor their saviors, the Naaru, Draenei fathers began to awaken to their unborn children with the Light. 

Anduin didn’t expect his unborn child to react as a Draenei child would, but the moment he touched Damara’s pregnant belly with the Light, he had been overwhelmed with love and joy. He learned the child was female. Anduin had forged a bond that her that was just as profound as one between mother and child, but different. He was able to feel her emotions and bring comfort when his daughter was distressed. 

As his Light-touched fingers had caressed her soft cheek, Anduin’s eyes blurred with unshed tears as she looked in his general direction for the first time. Though it would be some time before her eyes would be able to focus, it was almost as if his newborn daughter could see him. 

She was wrinkled, with the splotchy red skin that was commonplace with human infants. But to Anduin, his daughter was a breathtaking combination of himself and Damara. She possessed a head full of golden hair and bright blue eyes just like his own. 

_ Father... _

The baby in his arms squirmed and brought Anduin’s thoughts back to the present. She yawned and let out a small wail of displeasure. He could not help but smile at the way her face wrinkled into a scowl that resembled Varian’s. He traced a finger gingerly across the baby’s cheek to settle her restlessness and chuckled. “Thank the Light you did not get Father’s chin.” 

He gazed upon the massive portrait of his late father. Many of the people that passed through the royal apartments were taken aback by Varian’s scarred visage that towered over them. Even Damara, always calm and composed, had given him a look of mild surprise the first time she had entered the chambers. 

While there had been no doubt of Varian’s devotion for his people, only a handful truly knew the private side of the fallen monarch. His quick smile that conveyed warmth to his friends and great pride and abiding love for his son. There were times when Anduin could also hear his father’s deep laughter echoing in this chamber as if he were laughing at his own notoriously terrible jests. What would he have given for Varian in the flesh standing before him, healthy and whole? To be able to embrace his father once more? 

The tumultuous life of Varian Wrynn was the stuff of legend. The people of the Alliance and Horde regaled about the celebrated exploits of the king. His traditional foes, the orcs, had held him in such high esteem, a lok’ vadnod had been composed in to celebrate his death in glorious combat against the Legion. He had been only the second human deemed worthy enough for the honor. The first being Taretha Foxton, who freed the orc, Thrall, at the cost of her life. 

On the anniversary of the Alliance’s hard-earned victory of the Burning Legion, soldiers and veterans would gather around Lion’s Rest to pay tribute to the fallen king. They saw him more than just their king, but a comrade in arms. Varian Wrynn had often taken meals around the campfire with his men and shared in their joys and tragedies. With ale and beer that flowed free for a day, stories of Varian Wrynn’s exploits on the battlefield were retold but grew more embellished as the years passed. 

Tales of his courage had given hope to the downtrodden workers kept under the heel of the Ashvane Trading Company. Civilians had been inspired to take up arms and fight side by side with the weary Admiralty Guard when Priscilla Ashvane attempted to take Boralus and oust House Proudmoore from power. Genn Greymane and Damara’s gambit to sway the hearts and minds of the citizens of Boralus with pro-Alliance propaganda had been a resounding success. 

Anduin remembered as had he collapsed onto his knees into blackened ash and dirt before the Tomb of Sargeras. The words that Genn had spoken to him rang clearly in his ears. _Your father’s actions were indeed_, _heroic. They were his challenge to us, his people, to never let fear prevail. Even at the very gates of Hell. _

Wrynnfall. 

A place that had been immortalized in story and song as the site of Varian’s most famous battle and tragic last stand. 

Anduin had known differently. The people closest to him had long believed that the Worgen ritual had made the broken king whole. This had not been entirely true. Varian had long lived in a Hell of his own making. No amount of magic or healing was going to wipe away the stain of alcohol addiction. 

_ Father... _

A memory stirred of a then fourteen-year-old Anduin who had come to bid his father goodnight before his departure early the next morning on the journey that would ultimately saw him shipwrecked in Pandaria. Varian had stood before the painting, lost in his thoughts and nursing a glass of Westfall Fire Whiskey. 

Anduin’s heart lurched inside his chest at the thought of losing his father to the bottle once more. He could not watch his father descend back into the dark depression that had consumed Varian for most of his life and self-medicate when the memories of the loss threatened to rip open his father’s old wounds. 

Anduin was about to give in to his fear and retreat from the room. Then Varian turned to face him. Never before had Anduin witnessed something he had thought impossible. Varian’s cheeks were streaked with tears. He looked away from Anduin and down at the glass of dark amber liquor. Varian made a grunt as he hurled the drink into the fireplace and flopped into a nearby chair. He wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his white linen shirt as he struggled to constrain his emotions. 

Varian’s dark hair obscured his handsome face as his head slumped forward. Anduin’s heart filled with sorrow as he watched Varian’s broad shoulders shook as the tremors gave away the anguish that was coursing through his body. His voice was a sorrowful growl. “I know what it looks like, son.” 

Anduin rested a hand upon the larger man’s forearm. “That you are in pain, Father.” 

His head jerked sideways as he gave Anduin an incredulous look. “I almost gave way to temptation...” 

“Yet, you did not.” Anduin’s hand glowed with the radiance of the Light, and his voice had grown steady with reassurance like a soothing balm. “There is no greater challenge than to change from within, and you’ve risen to that challenge day after day. I have faith in you, Father.” 

For many long moments, father and son had remained silent as they watched the flames crackle in the fireplace. The stillness had been broken when paper crinkled as Anduin gingerly removed a parcel from his coat pocket. 

Varian gazed at the package offered and looked to Anduin with confusion etched upon his face. “Son? What is this? I’ve done nothing to merit a gift.” 

The prince just nodded towards the parcel. A radiant smile spread across Anduin’s soft features. “Something to keep you on the right path.” 

In the middle of the torn paper lay a compass wrought in gold with a lion emblazoned upon the lid. He opened the compass and noticed the needle pointed north, towards the portrait within. 

Anduin’s spirit lifted as he witnessed Varian marvel in remembrance of the Light’s blessing. 

_ Father... _

Anduin smiled down upon his now quieted daughter, awed that he was now a father. A new understanding of Varian Wrynn filled him. A fierce desire to protect his child against all that would see her come to harm coursed through him. He felt a love that was more deep-seated than anything he had experienced before. Even in the years after his father’s death never had Anduin felt more connected to him as now. Is this how Varian had felt when he first held his newborn son? 

Anduin’s happiness was bittersweet with the knowledge that his daughter would never know Varian has he had. The breath caught in his throat when he fought against a fresh new torrent of emotions. Anduin took her tiny hand in his and marveled when she instinctively grasped his finger and tried to suck. He whispered, almost with a chuckle. “You certainly do have Father’s grip.” 

Anduin brought his daughter’s tiny hand to his mouth and kissed it gently. 

“Saa’ra once told me sometimes the most beautiful and important gifts come wrapped in pain and blood.” Anduin’s breath caught for a moment, and he found it difficult to continue as he struggled momentarily with the emotions coursing through him. He touched her cheek, now fair as his own, and whispered almost inaudibility. “You, my precious one, are that gift.” 

Anduin looked up at his father and recited the words spoken by every king of Stormwind since Faldir Wrynnsen. “My child, you are heir to a long line of kings and queens, and Light willing, mother to generations more. For you, Azeroth holds more and will demand more.” He grasped the Light, and in a ritual that would have typically been performed by the Archbishop of the Church, he called forth a benediction of blessing upon his child. “Daughter, I give you the Light to illuminate your path and be a beacon against the darkness.” 

The child paid her father no heed as the shards of Light swirled and danced about them. The Light spread around them like an unfurled tapestry as he spoke his child’s name for the first time. “Varia Ellerian. That is my gift to you, my daughter. May you grow in strength and courage as the man whose name you are given.” 

Anduin pressed his cheek against Varia’s as the Light winked out around them. 


End file.
